


The Ghosts of Wyoming

by itsaquinnquinnsituation



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:09:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaquinnquinnsituation/pseuds/itsaquinnquinnsituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> <br/>Small drops of rain glistened in the harsh funnel-shaped yellow haze generated by the headlights of the only car travelling east on a deserted highway. Rolled up windows could barely muffle old country music blasted full-volume inside. The driver was wholly concentrated on the road, unblinking, one gravelly lane behind wildly jerking windshield wipers. In the passenger seat, another young man, with a dark piece of cloth wrapped tightly over his eyes, was leaning listless against the water-streaked window…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghosts of Wyoming

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction, intended for entertainment purposes only. I do not mean to offend or insult anyone. No characters, real or based off real people, belong to me. I am not making money off my work.
> 
> This is my universe and exactly how I see it. Writing should be enjoyed, not judged.
> 
> This story came to me very suddenly, like somebody turned on a movie, I didn't know where it was going or what was going to happen, so here I was just trying my best to describe what I saw...

 

 

 

 

Small drops of rain glistened in the harsh funnel-shaped yellow haze generated by the headlights of the only car travelling east on a deserted highway. Rolled up windows could barely muffle old country music blasted full-volume inside. The driver was wholly concentrated on the road, unblinking, one gravelly lane behind wildly jerking windshield wipers. In the passenger seat, another young man, with a dark piece of cloth wrapped tightly over his eyes, was leaning listless against the water-streaked window…

 

 

“Okay?“

“No.“

“Well, there’s no other way. He’s a good guy. Very good with his hands. He’ll stay there for a few days, help you insulate the house, do some repairs, fix it up a bit…set you up with some food. Same thing as if it were me.”

“Zayn, I can’t…”

“Well, Louis, I can’t do it… this year. I can’t do it. I had told you before.”

“Zayn…”

“He’ll be there on Friday. Please, don’t send him away, it’s a very long drive.”

“Zayn, I haven’t…”

“Louis, I have to go. We’ll talk later, okay? Everything will be fine, he’s a good guy, I promise.”

Hearing short beeps emanate from the receiver, he pressed it to his chest and slumped against the dirty glass wall of the telephone booth.

 

 

A knock came on the door. 

“Who is there?”

“It’s Harry.”

“Who? Did you say ‘Harry’?”

“Yeah. Harry Styles.”

“Uhm… Okay… Uh…C-can I see some documentation?”

“What?”

“Do you have an ID?”

“Oh” – a soft laugh, - “Zayn told me it might be like this…”

“Okay, okay… just give me a few seconds.”

“Okay, take your time.”

Louis slid down the other side of the door, breathing heavily, pressing his hand to his chest.

“Do you want me to…”

“No. No, it’s okay. I… I got it.”

He slowly got up off the ground and just as slowly twisted the lock.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Uh… do you remember me?”

“I… I don’t know.” – Louis was not looking at his face at all.

“We met at a Zayn’s friend’s party eight years ago. H-hah, I actually don’t remember it myself, but Zayn told me we did.”

“Okay.”

“I brought you some stuff. It’s in the car. I’ll just go and get it?”

“Okay.”

“Alright” – Harry looked at him, - “Yeah.”

 

 

“And you have the list?”

“Here. There are five freezers downstairs.”

“Five?”

“Yes. You can take a look. If you want.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be back in a few.”

 

 

“What’s this?”

“Just beer.”

“Why? I didn’t put that…”

“I got it myself. Got you some, too. Take it, it’s just a little.”

Louis slowly took the glass.

Harry smiled:

“I am not trying to poison you.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes. But it’s still early. If I go to sleep now, I will be up at four.”

“There’s always work.”

“Yes.”

“Uhm… where are you coming from?”

“Sheridan. Up in the North.”

“You drove seven hours?”

“Zayn is… a good friend of mine.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“What kind?”

“Immigration.”

“Lots of people moving to Sheridan?”

Harry laughed and rubbed his neck:

“No. No. I travel. But rarely. Billings. Casper. I do most of my work remotely for this one firm... I’m… I’m kind of in the shadows, you could say. I only communicate with everyone via email. But I don’t really need to see my clients in person.”

Louis nodded.

“And you?”

“What?”

“You can’t be surviving just with that little greenhouse.”

“No.”

“So?”

Louis turned to him.

“I know you are… sorry, I just thought that since… You know that Zayn is my friend and…”

“Withered Lilies. The End of the Road. Deadzone. The Hollow Man. From the…”

“Wait, wait… what do you mean?”

Louis was silent.

“No…” – Harry put his glass onto a shabby table, - “No… No way. You can’t be. You can’t be serious.”

“And when he looked into his own eyes in the mirror, he saw nothing behind them, because he was hollow, hollow, like an old tree, that…”

“No, no, no, wait! You just wait.” – Harry stared at him with his mouth open, but there was no expression on Louis’ face, besides that of…

“This can’t be true… I’ve read all of them… I… I… could quote them…. Every one of them. I keep them on my bedside table. It’s…. Wait. Wait. So… so… is the… are the papers that I’m supposed to…?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be damned. William Lewis” – He shook his head, - “William Lewis himself. The mysterious bestseller writer who has never been interviewed or photographed. ‘Millions of readers speculate if their beloved author is actually a real person’…. Damn…. The living ghost. No. No. Rather – the ghost haunting the wilderness of Wyoming…”

“I am going to bed.”

“Wait. I want to ask you…”

“I don’t want to be asked.”

“Wait. Wait! If you wrote those books… If *you* wrote those books...”

“The sofa is made. Suit yourself.”

 

 

“What is this music?”

“Radio. Country. That’s the only frequency it picks up down here. Complete shit, but I’m used to it.”

“Hm. Where is the glue?”

“Second shelf to your left. No. Not that one, I said – to your left. Blue box. Got it?”

“Do you always do this?”

“What?”

“Hole up for the winter?”

“I am not holing up. I will be writing.”

“Yes, but you… you don’t… but if you are not leaving the house at all and…”

“So?”

“No, I just… You don’t even have the internet. Or telephone! I don’t…understand how you…”

Louis put the tools down and turned to him sharply:

“And you claim to have read my books?”

 

 

“…is good, no?”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it is good. Better than canned food that I’m used to.”

“I don’t usually cook. Surprising that I still know how to.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know” – Harry shrugged, - “No time. No sense in cooking for one.”

“Don’t you have friends?”

Harry jerked his fork:

“Yeah… yes, sure I have friends... and coworkers. I have Zayn.”

“Zayn doesn’t live in Wyoming. Do you have friends up in Sheridan?”

“He does come to visit. He said…”

“I know what he said.”

“What do you mean?”

“Harry” – Louis put his fork down and looked his guest square in the eyes, - “Can you really not read between the lines? Zayn is not coming back.”

“What?”

“The thing with Liam? Pretty sure he will not be coming back to live in Nebraska. Between New York and that shithole the choice is pretty obvious if you ask me. He is already there as of right now.”

“What? Where, in New York? What do you mean? How do you know?”

“He used to come down *here* a lot more often than twice a year. Last year he spent nine out of the twelve months in New York. It’s going well for them, so, naturally, he wants to live there more than part-time. Do you understand?”

“Right. Yeah, I get it.”

“So?”

“So?” 

“I asked you. Sheridan is not such a small place and…”

“Interesting” – Harry put down his fork, - “Is this something *you*’re asking *me*?”

 

 

“W-what?” -The rain was coming down in a muffled drumroll on the roof, - “What’s going on?”

“Relax, relax, it’s nothing.”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m cold.”

“Go back to your sofa. I’ll get you another blanket…”

“No. No. I am not going away.”

Faint moon light was seeping through ragged blinds.

“You can’t stay here.”

“I can… what are you going to do?”

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I told you I’m cold.”

Louis considered it.

“Okay. Okay, but don’t touch me.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m serious.”

“I got it, I won’t. Why would I touch you?”

“Don’t know, the…”

“Relax and go back to sleep.”

Louis stared at the ceiling with his eyes wide open for another two hours.

 

 

He opened his eyes with a loud gasp and choked on air immediately.

“Relax, relax… you’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

“What’s going on? What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s this? I thought I told you not to…"

“Louis, you did it yourself in your sleep. I told you it was cold in here.”

Louis breathed in short deep gulps:

“Move your hand.”

“No. You do it if you want.”

“No. I… I can’t…. I just...”

“Louis… you can’t even..”

“No, I can’t.”

Harry considered it:

“Touch my hand.”

“What?”

“Louis, you are already *touching* me. Touch my hand. Very simple. I am not asking you to hold it. Touch my hand and I will move it away.”

Louis looked at Harry’s hand, now laying on his upper abdomen, even as Louis’ body was still pressed against Harry’s. He brought his left hand to hover over Harry’s. It trembled.

“Th-there. Now, let me go.”

Harry watched his bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. 

 

 

“I think, we will be finished by tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“I just have to seal the windows in the basement.”

“Seal all of them, if you want. It’s Wyoming. You can even seal the door from the outside when you go.”

“And you’ll just… just survive without any human contact?”

“And how do you do it in Sheridan?”

Harry frowned.

 

 

“I still don’t understand how you do it.”

“What?”

“For example, how you knew that Zayn is not coming back. I didn’t even realize he was already back in New York. He didn’t tell me this when he called me to ask if I could… visit you. Just said that he can’t do it this year and gave me the directions. Did you know?”

“Yes.”

“How? You don’t even have email… nothing.”

“When I called him, his voice sounded far away. You know, how phone lines can distort your voice? It was the same as when I’d call him when he was in New York. So, I knew he was already there.”

“Where did you call him from?”

“There’s a phone booth by the gas station. Six miles from here. I walk there at night, so the road is empty.”

“Yeah. C-can I ask you…?”

"Depending on what it is."

“What is… this thing with you…”

“Well, it’s not some kind of a post-traumatic stress syndrome or childhood trauma, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I thought maybe… maybe you were harassed by the fans… or…”

“Or it’s a publicity thing? To spread a bit of mystery and intrigue the readers?” – Louis laughed bitterly, - “Hardly. Well. The doctors used to think that it’s just agoraphobia and panic attacks. I took medication for a long time. Five years. But it was useless, and it just got worse and worse. So, I think it’s something else. I think… Sometimes I think I live in this environment… This… *deprived* environment so that nothing would distract me from the worlds that I create in my head… and then put down on paper for you all to enjoy.”

Harry considered it:

“No… Louis. Nobody enjoys it.”

“What?”

“You’re brilliant because you are the most honest author to populate the bookshelves in American history. Some say you are a philosopher, but you’re not… you’re just… a sincere courageous pers…”

“Courageous? Are you joking?”

“No. People are amazed and enthralled because they have never had somebody tell them to their face the truth that they are too terrified to admit. But I mean… have you actually read the books that you've written? “The Hollow Man?”, for example? When I first read it I was… somewhat shocked, because I wondered how you could describe me so… accurately…but then… I realized you weren’t describing me at all. Well, you were, but you were also describing yourself. And millions of other people in this world, and I…”

“Harry” – Louis turned to him, eyes wide open and glistening in the moonlight, - “I’m cold.”

“Okay” – Harry wiped his face, - “Okay, I’ll get us another blanket.”

“No. No, that’s not necessary. Just… Just do that thing that you do…”

 

 

“And I can show up here again, if you need me. Just call.”

“Not in winter. In winter, you can’t. The road will be buried under snow.”

“Damn. I forgot about that” – Harry rubbed his face.

“I will be fine. Don’t forget to deliver the manuscript.”

“I will visit you in the spring. As soon as the snow melts. Bring you more food. More ink and paper” – He looked away.

“Thanks.”

“So, I should be off.”

Louis raised his trembling hand in a goodbye waive as Harry turned to walk back to his car. He heard him sniffle.

“No!” – “Goddamnit!” – “W-what are you doing?” – “Louis!” - “Stop!”

Saliva, tears, their voices, everything mixed up, fused together with pain as Harry slammed him into the outside wall of his cabin.

“Stop it!”

“I would if I could…”

“Don’t…”

“Can’t you see that I can’t let you go?”

And then Louis cried, weak and exhausted in Harry’s embrace.

“I can’t do this, you know?”

“Who cares about this shit? Leave it there as it is and it will sit untouched for another few years. Or we can come back and visit in spring, if you want.”

“I can’t” – he was shrieking like a wounded fox, - “I can’t go with you, Harry! I haven't left this place for four years... I can’t… I can’t go out of the house when there people on the street!”

“That’s fine with me, my place in Sheridan is in a quiet cul-de-sac…”

“No, you don’t get it… I just can’t! I can’t be seeing other people, can’t be hearing them, can’t be smelling them! I can't even pick up my mail!” – He was struggling, locked in between Harry and the wall, like a fish out of the water.

“You don’t need to. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll build you a panic room, sound-proof, however you like it! Louis, please!” – He held up his head with his hand, - “Please, I don’t want to be re-reading “The Hollow Man” anymore! And I don’t want to be like that either!”

“I can’t” – Louis was whispering through uncontrolled sobs, - “And even if… even if we... I can’t because… on the way... we would be passing… there will be people… and houses… and noises… people everywhere… I can’t… can’t you see that I can’t…”

“Okay” – Harry took a tiny step back, continuing to hold pliable Louis against the wall with one hand, - “Okay, alright, I got it. I got it. I can take care of that.” - In one swift motion he pulled off the black bandana that he used to tie back his wild curly hair and began working out the knot, - “That’s not a problem, that’s not a problem at all…”

 

 

Small drops of rain glistened in the harsh funnel-shaped yellow haze, generated by the headlights of the only car travelling east on a deserted highway. Rolled up windows could barely muffle old country music blasted full-volume inside. The driver was wholly concentrated on the road, unblinking, one gravelly lane behind wildly jerking windshield wipers. In the passenger seat, another young man, with a dark piece of cloth wrapped tightly over his eyes, was leaning listless against the water-streaked window…


End file.
